the lucky one

no air

The summer passes slowly. Like a thick syrup, dark and sticky, languidly dripping off the side of a wall. Uncomfortable and unbearable. Day after day, Mateo and Miranda wait in the house. Wait for Severus to come home and tell them news, wait to hear if someone is dead or hurt or missing,waiting. That's what Miranda's life consists of now; waiting. Their mission hasn't started yet, Snape won't give them any new information about it either, just insists that they practice every day.

Miranda is listless. She's lost weight, too much weight. Her hair is long and matted, dull. She feels grey, like all the colors have been sapped from her soul. She misses Harry, the hollow spot in her chest growing each day that goes by where he isn't with her, touching her, loving her.

At least she has Matt. That's what she she tells herself,  over and over again. As long as she has Matt everything will be alright.

It is the week before they are supposed to return to Hogwarts. They should be in Diagon Alley, laughing, getting books and robes, eating ice cream at Fortescue's Instead they're here, in this dank, crooked house, preparing themselves for war.

Miranda sighs heavily, trudging down the rickety stairs. There is mold growing from the cracks in the ceiling, a sickly yellow colour. The air  inside of the house is warm and humid, sour. Sweat trickles down the back of her neck, and she has a vague thought or two about the sparkling waters of the beach she lived by once. The soft sand beneath her toes, and her mother's musical laugh as she watched her surf and frolic in the waves from the shore. It feels like an eternity ago.

She sidles up next to her brother, who is perched at the windowsill "They're moving him today," says Miranda quietly. It's been weighing on her ever since she heard the news. His birthday was soon. She'd always pictured his seventeenth birthday differently. She'd wanted to have a party, give him the picture she'd found among her mum's old stuff. He'd have loved it. Loved her.

"It should work," Mateo replies, eyes tired. "The Polyjuice Potion idea was a good one. Hopefully they'll get by unscathed."

"Except Severus told them what time they're going," Miranda retorts snappishly. This had been her least favorite facet of the plan.

"You know he has to keep up appearances," Mateo looks at her pointedly.

"I still don't like him," she says sullenly, staring out the window at the stark landscape. Her opinion of Snape has not improved in any sort of way since living at his home. If anything, it's worsened.

Her brother rubs a hand over his jaw, "Don't worry he'll be gone soon. Hogwarts is starting back up again."

"I can't believe they made him headmaster," Miranda scoffs. It seems to her an idea of epically bad proportions. Double agent or not, she doesn't trust Snape. She doesn't trust Dumbledore either. Not anymore.

"Well when Voldemort controls every fucking thing in the wizarding world it's not that hard." Mateo pauses for a moment, thinking. He is chewing his bottom lip like it's taffy. "You reckon it's safe there? Can't be more dangerous than out here— right? I just—"

Miranda knows immediately what he is trying to convey. She's grown so attuned to her brother's signs these past few months. "Ginny will be alright Matt," Miranda reassures in a soft voice, smiling encouragingly. "She's an incredibly sufficient witch. And— she's got Neville and Luna."

"Hm," Mateo hums, somewhat absentmindedly. The lines on his forehead ease, hut his eyes remain worried. Miranda pats him on the shoulder.

The front door creaks open and Snape swishes in, black cape billowing behind him. Grady, the house elf totters after him, carrying a plate full of food.